No Allegiance
by DreamReaper
Summary: Monster, human...right and wrong, good or evil – this are all words. Empty, shallow words. Nothing more than leaves scattered by the wind. So, were does your alliegence lie, Claymore? What makes you trully unique, trully...human?"
1. Chapter 1

Warning!: **English is not my native language!. Also, this story is an AU.**

Since I'm no good at this sort of thing, I'll let the story do all the talking. So read it and weep. Or don't. You decide.

Disclaimer: I don't even own a car, yet alone Claymore

Hunter's Moon – scene 1

Slowly, she crept under the sheets that covered him. His serene face looked even more beautiful in the moons dim light. Gently, she brushed aside one of the rebellious strands that covered his forehead.

Startled when he softly whispered her name, she traced with one of her delicate fingers the now barely noticeable scar above his left eye. She faltered for a second before bending down and placing a kiss on his dry lips.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes. "Clare". He whispered as his eyes filled with what seemed like fear and compassion, instead of passion. Her mouth turned into a toothy grin as a sigh left his lips. A tear fell from his now closed eyes.

A flash of light. A sound of ripped flesh. Blood covered the walls as it sprayed out of his body.

Her eyes snapped open as she jerked herself up from her resting spot at the base of a tree. Breathing heavily, she wiped away the heavy drops of sweat on her forehead. She glanced around, as if she was searching for something, something that would prove to her that everything was just going on in her mind. A couple of feet further from her a small fire was crackling mildly. To her right, next to her, lay her only companion – the claymore. Neatly folded, her short cloak had served as her pillow through the night.

She breathed freely as she got up. Slowly, she made her way through the low mist of the morning to a waterfall she knew was nearby.

_A dream. It was all a dream. Same nightmare that keeps repeating over and over_, she thought as she traced a hand through her shoulder long, blond, wet hair. Leaning on her palms against the rocky wall of the waterfall, she let the cold water caress her naked body as it fell. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back. With her pounding, slightly departed, cherry red lips, soft silky skin and flawless body, she could make even Aphrodite of Cyprus green with envy. She stood for minutes like this, as if she awaited the kiss of an unseen lover.

Lying down, she curled up into a ball beneath the pouring curtain. "Forgive me, Raki…please, forgive me", she barely murmured as she pulled her knees tightly to her chest. Her words were filled with misery.

For minutes she stood like that in the cold embrace of the murmuring river. The sound of water drops falling in the shallow water echoed in her head like the cries of a weeping widow.

She awoke from her trance as a bird took off from one of the nearby bushes.

"Right. Time to go.

* * *

The streets were teeming with life. Men with scythes were heading to the grain fields as women swept the dust off the low steps in front of their houses. Here and there a cart passed lazily on the main street, the sound of wooden wheels and hooves rising above the blatancy of roosters announcing the dawn of a new day. Just another ordinary day in one of the western villages.

Nobody seemed to pay any attention to a blond boy as he entered the local pub. He wore a long, dark blue cloak over a simple white, flattered shirt and black pants tucked inside silvery sabatons. His short, golden hair was tied in a small ponytail. Two braids framed his angelic face on each side. He sat on a stool at the counter and waited.

Soon, the innkeeper appeared: a jolly, old man with a chubby, red face. His large side curls underlined even more the boldness of his scalp.

"So, what will it be?"

"Water. And an apple."

"That's all?!"he asked in disbelief. "No eggs, no meat? We have some freshly baked scones, if you'd like some"

"Do you have cherries?" the boy said flatly.

"Yes, but…"

"Then I'll have some cherries. Skip the apple"

"Two berras",replied the old man with a defeated sigh.

Taking his food, the young blond made his way to a table in the back of the room.

"I'm telling you: there's going to be a full moon tonight. It's bound to strike again"

"Oh, come on!"said a pudgy man rolling his eyes. He sat at a table left to the boy's. Although he wore simple clothes, his breakfast was quite substantial: cheese, a partially eaten roasted chicken, an apple pie and a flagon of red wine. _A rich man's meal_, thought Clare as she peeked at him. "That's just a myth, a fairy-tale…a children's bed-time story."

"Then how do you explain the lack of yoma activity in this region?"asked another one.

"Yeah! There hasn't been a yoma in these parts for 3 months!"

"Who knows?"said the fat one shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe those damned Claymores **finally** did their job and killed them all." His sarcastic remark was shortly followed by a cracking sound coming from the boy's direction.

"I'll go get you a new one",came the voice of the innkeeper, seeing the young man was holding a now broken clay jug.

"…or maybe they've all migrated or something",the aforementioned man continued in a lower voice.

"Yeah? And the bodies? How do you explain **the bodies**? I'm telling you: THE STORY IS REAL!"

"Excuse my intrusion, gentlemen, but I seem to be the only one in the dark here" Everybody turned towards the owner of the smooth-silky voice. "What story are you all talking about?"

"And who might you be?"asked a tall, bony man.

"Just a traveler."

"You're not from around here, are you, lad?"said a woodsman, eyeing him suspiciously, intrigued by the boy's appearance.

"No," Clare answered simply. "I come from the north. Bad harvests up north forced me seek my fortunes here in the south."

"I don't like it. There's something suspicious about him"the woodsman whispered in the rich man's ear, earning a surprised look from him. "Just look at him! He looks more like a girl then a man!"

All eyes turned towards Clare yet again as the woodsman continued"In my entire life I've never seen a man with such a fair complexion. Just look at his cheeks: they're as soft as a baby's bottom - not one hair or a wrinkle … not even a mild trace."

The tension grew more and more as every pair of eyes narrowed in expectancy of an answer.

"Maybe if I had your looks, my beloved wouldn't have left me",said the skinny man, heaving a sighing,"You must have broken a lot of hearts in your life…"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me anyway," she answered, trying her best not to suggest anything more than they could imagine.

The suspicious woodsman grinned. "Try me," he challenged. "I used to be the most powerful, adventurous, dashing young…"

"Oh man, here we go again!", someone said sarcastically. "Keep your adventures to yourself!"

"Obviously he must've lost something to end up a woodsman after all his adventures!" the innkeeper added.

Everyone laughed at the suggestion. Clare, grateful for the innkeeper's comment to break the tension, gave him a smile.

"Now, back to my original question: what story were you all talking about?"asked Clare, taking advantage of the more relaxed atmosphere. Hearing her words, everyone gave each other grim looks as they lowered their heads. Silence took over the place as suddenly as it had left it before.

"Just a local myth, nothing more. It's the ancient story of The Hunter, a creature of darkness that comes for its prey in nights with big full moons. That's why folks around here have named them The Hunter's Moon. But like I said, it's just a MYTH!"the rich man explained calmly. He nearly shouted out just a mythas if he wanted to make sure everybody in town heard him.

"I've seen it!"came the voice of an old man from the back of the room.

"Oh for crying out loud!" said the other one as he nervously slapped his forehead.

"Head like a lion, teeth like a bear…claws that could tear a plank to splinters",the old man continued as he slowly approached Clare's table. "It comes in the mist, always in the darkest … and once it set its eyes on you, there's **no escape**." With every spoken word, silence took over the room. People started to shift uncomfortably in their seats. "Then the morning comes and we find the bodies", he said nearly whispering, quickly looking left and right, like he had just revealed a horrible secret.

"Bodies of…?"the boy asked apathetically.

"Yoma. So far. We found a couple of yoma hanging upside down in the forest nearby. **Beheaded**",answered the tall man with a sadistic grin. "I don't know about you, but I'm glad someone's killing these bastards."

_Interesting_, Clare thought as she slowly tapped the tip of her fingers together.

"But The Hunter isn't real! It's just a story. **Folklore!**"

The vociferation inside the inn died off as the young man closed the door behind him.

"Oh, can you here him coming? There's a dark man, you better keep running, running!".

Startled by the words she just heard, Clare turned to face a small, wrinkled man. Absorbed by the man's mad chuckle and weird dancing, she barely noticed the innkeeper coming out behind her.

"Don't mind him, lad. He's jut the local idiot." His words broke the invisible spell that seemed to have bound her to the spot. "Hey, you! Get out of here!", the old man yelled as he grabbed his broom.

* * *

_I wonder if the story has some __truth__ behind it_, Clare wondered as she walked along the road that went from the village straight through the nearby forest towards the next small city. "It's an accursed place. No one dares to venture there anymore", the words of the old villager rang in her head as her silver eyes inspected the top of the trees on each side of the road. Their branches looked like menacing hands in the moon's light. _Doesn't look like a cursed forest. Just your average trees, bushes…_"Squirrel", she thought out loud as the small rodent cut her path.

_It__'s big_. "Hunter's moon." Looking at the full moon above, she uttered barely audible, remembering the story. _I wonder if Miria knows anything about the killings here or the story_. _The story…Raki would have loved it._ A faint, bittersweet smile appeared on her lips.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a burning feeling in her gut. _Yoki!_Narrowing her eyes, she barely distinguished a humanoid form running fast towards her, stumbling and looking back from time to time. "Yoma", she murmured as she unsheathed her sword, hidden from the eyes of the world under the long,blue cloak. Throwing down the small bag that contained her official uniform and other items, she began running towards her victim.

The demon avoided her attacks, quickly sidestepping left-right. "Out of my way, bitch!"it barked as it jumped over her.

Astonished, she watched the creatures' back for a couple of seconds as it ran away. Aiming, she threw the sword at it. The yoma hit the ground with a loud thud.

_Well, that was new_, she thought as she retrieved her blade. _And the expression on his face…that wasn't bloodlust…or anger. It was fear. Pure __**fear**__! It wasn't trying to attack me…it was actually running for its life!_ She took a defensive stance as she reached the conclusion, slowly eyeing the surroundings.

"Who dares come between me and my prey?" A deep baritone voice sent icy chills down her back with every word.

* * *

**_Notes:_**

_Many thanks to __**Shelter **_and _**Ryochanx2**_ _for their relentless beta-reading, editing & comments on this story. Hope I won't disappoint you guys!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hunter's Moon – scene 2**

The few minutes that passed by seemed like an eternity to Clare. The ever so calm warrior was now growing impatient. The look in her eyes soon turned from that of a cold-blooded, calculated killer into frustration as a deathlike silence took over the place.

Concentrating, with her eyes almost entirely closed, she sharpened her hearing. All things seemed to freeze for a moment as she calmly turned her head to the right. The movement of branches to and fro in the warm, suave breeze; leaves whispering among themselves, dripping water in the distance – they all stood still for seconds as her head slowly returned to its initial position.

Turning left,the sound of crickets singing their nightly ballads met her eardrums.

Drops of sweat started to form on her forehead as she nervously bit her lower lip to the point of drawing blood from it. The idea of an unseen pair of burning, golden, feline eyes glancing intensely at the back of her head, sent chills down her spine. She could almost hear the monster licking its lips with immense delight as it stalked the future feast.

But no matter how fast she turned on her heels, she couldn't meet that glare.

For the second time in her life, Clare felt the bitter taste of terror in her dry mouth. Swallowing a lump, she thought: _I can't hear it. I can't feel __**anything**__! Where is it? Where the hell is it?!_

Turning around, her heart stood still as a huge, dark figure passed by the trees behind her in a split second.

_Calm down Clare, calm down…you can do this. Focus! Find the trail of its yoki and end this cat and mouse game. You can do it_, she desperately tried to hearten herself.

Yet again she searched the surroundings, but to no avail. _Heh! Not a trace. Not even on a human's level. Is it that strong…that powerful? Can it suppress its yoki that much?_ The sheer thought of this made her neck skin crawl. _Could it be an unknown abyssal? No…not even they are capable of hiding their power that well. What the hell is it?! _Her maelstrom of thoughts was interrupted by a shrill sound approaching her fast. She opened her eyes in the nick of time to deflect three arrows.

A pair of ominous eyes, hidden by thick foliage, narrowed as they noticed her success. A dark form passed in silence from one tree to another, with the agility of an ape.

A sudden gust of wind blew a couple of stray hairs in her eyes as her cape flogged violently, lashing the now flying fallen leaves. Her heart began to pound faster as goose-bumps appeared on her skin, caressed by the cold draught.

"I am the man who walks alone

And when I'm walking a dark road

At night or strolling through the town..."

_It's singing!? _Stunned, Clare stood with an astonished look on her face as the creature continued to murmur its sinister melody. _Focus, damn it!_ She shook her head, trying to break the spell.

"When the light begins to change

I sometimes feel a little strange

A little anxious when it's ... **dark**."

_It's circling me ... keeps moving to my left ... my more vulnerable side – so it's smart. _

"Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

You have a constant fear that something's always near..."

_How does it move so silently?!_ Her eyes briefly widened in realisation. _The trees! It's using the trees!_

"...Fear of the dark, fear of the dark

You have an obsession that someone's ...

**always there**!"

The song stopped suddenly as the sound of rapid footsteps took its place. As Clare hastily turned around, she saw a pair of feet before feeling the shock of a direct hit in her chest. As air left her lungs, she met the ground with a large thud, leafs and dust flying all around her. Her heart stopped for a second as a metalic sound reached her ears. _MY SWORD!_

Stumbling and dizzy, she got up only to feel a firm grip on her wrist before she was thrown in the opposite direction. A groan escaped her lips as her torso hit the trunk of a tree. Trying to rise again, she fell back on one knee, coughing up blood. Her sight blurred as a thin trail of the crimson fluid left her mouth.

"I need … my… sword!" she said nearly inaudibly as she came to her senses, each pause followed by a cough.

A large humanoid crouched between her and her prize. Dark colored trousers tucked inside high, black, leather riding boots,and a loose black shirt covered this beast's body. A large medallion hung on a long chain around his neck. The whiteness of its piercing eyes and shining, golden bands attached to its long, thick dreadlocks stood in contrast with its black skin. The flapping end of the black piece of fabric,which covered its face and part of its head,left a dark trail behind as the creature launched another assault.

"Yoma." The word left her lips a second before its right leg came into contact with her left shoulder. Knocked back a couple of feet, she quickly regained her balance before deflecting another kick aimed at her right cheek.

Trying to avoid its attacks, she made incredibly acrobatic jumps, twists and twirls, but to no avail, as the creature seemed to always be one step ahead of her. Three rapid punches taken in the gut made her bent a little, before an uppercut sent her stumbling a couple of feet backwards. In a strange, masochistic way, the creature's highly agile movements - its balance, the perfect flow of its rapid kicks and punches, the way it had repelled her small fists by hitting her forearms with its own -fascinated her…better yet, it excited her. _I've never seen a yoma fight__like this before…_

Mimicking its technique, she received a smirk from under the mask, before a sharp pain took over her. Instinctively reaching up, she touched her nose. Her glare turned to shock at the sight of blood on her hand and the numbness of her face. _My nose…it broke my nose!_

The monster still retained the form of its last attack: the right arm stretched forward, palm tilted backwards, its fingers held in a strange position, like a half opened fist. As the monster prepared for a new attack, she felt something strange stirring up within her, something dark – an unquenchable thirst for glory for blood.

Her gaze took a strange look as her assailant launched from its posture towards her. The beasts eyes widened in astonishment as it stopped dead in its tracks – the prey had disappeared in a blink of an eye.

The sound of metal brushing up against dirt. "Time to DIE, vermin!"screamed the silver warrior as her blade descended upon the demon's head. Sparks flew as the sharp sound of steel against steel took over everything around the pair.

A sadistic chuckle ripped through the silence that followed the meeting of a pair of short, curved swords and a claymore. "Fun…so much fun." A smirk formed on a pair of lips beneath a certain dark mask.

Clare's look turned to perplexity as the victorious smile on her lips died off."Wha?!" she cried out, before receiving two swift knee hits in the stomach. Bent by the amount of pain that took over her, a pair of feet met her chin, sending her flying as the yoma did a back-flip. She landed on her back in the dirt.

Lifted and held tightly by a pair of inhumanly strong arms, the image of her first meeting with Ophelia flashed before her eyes. The feeling of her back against a hard, massive chest, her feet unable to touch the ground anymore and hot breath on her neck made her eyes tremble as fear paralyzed her for the second time in her life. Light reflected by a metallic surface blinded her for a split second as a hand moved upwards on her body. She closed her eyes as rough dreads brushed her skin before the deep voice whispered evilly in her ear: "Let's see your insides, boy."

As the tip of a blade barely pierced the skin between her neck and bust, the creature seemed to hesitate…to stop. It took a whiff before throwing her down like a rag doll.

"A WOMAN! How … disgusting", it said,repulsed, sheathing the pair of swords.

"You misogynistic son of a bitch!" she screamed at the monster, her eyes glowing a bright orange. "You attacked me…you broke my nose and now you're ditching me because I'M A WOMAN!?"

Ignoring her shouts, it kept walking away, its clothes flapping violently in the wind. Hearing an acute sound closing in from above, the yoma stopped nervous. It sidestepped in the nick of time, avoiding Clare's blow.

As the dust cleared, she elicited her sword from the ground. A small crater remained behind were once the tip of the broadsword had stood. In a flash of silver light, she launched at her attacker.

Blades clashed once more as the creature desperately defended itself from the enraged claymore's brutal attacks. Its breath grew heavier, violent as it barely managed to avoid getting ripped to pieces. Sweat began to run down its forehead.

Pushing down her sword, Clare nearly forced her nemesis down to its knees. The edge of the claymore touched its nose as a scornful grin took over Clare's features. Eyes narrowed, before the demon released a wild roar. Its muscles tensed and pushed back, forcing the other edge of the large sword to approach its owner's face dangerously.

In an explosion of light, Clare's face distorted seconds before she kicked the yoma away. It took a couple of bumbling steps back, stunned. Falling on one knee, it shook its head. A light, grim chuckle came from the direction of the monster.

"What the hell are you?" the silver eyed beauty spoke under her breath as the chuckle turned into a burst of laughter.

"Such fun…so much fun. I can't even remember the last time I had so much fun!" it mumbled as it rose to its feet.Sheathing its blades, it turned to Clare. "You, CLAYMORE! I acknowledge you as a superior warrior…" As it spoke, it took out a small vial from a compartment in his left vambrace. Breaking its upper ending, it drank the black content. "…Therefore, you are worthy of seeing my face…"it continued, shedding its mask, "…for it will be the last you'll ever see."

_Why is it still in its human form?!_

Quickly swinging its swords, continuously tripping and hitting her, the monster forced the warrior to retreat step by step. _He's matching my speed…no, he's even faster now!_Annoyed by his blank expression and extremely calm glare, she released yoki once again. Continuously looking her straight in the eye, he kept coming closer and closer, as each of her slashes failed to hit him. _Is he reading my flow??_

Coming to a halt, she reverted to her human self again. Surprised, her opponent hesitated to attack. Her speed began to decrease as she continued suppressing her aura, trying to predict her attacker's movement. The tip of one blade scratched her forehead as she took a step back. _It's not working…I still can't__feel anything! _

Receiving a punch in the jaw, her adversary flew ten feet away, before hitting a tree.

"What the heck is this?"Clare wondered, noticing a black spot on her fist. "It smells like…charcoal. But yoma don't use camouflage…do they?"

Watching the rattling creature curiously as it tried to stand on its feet, it spat blood along with a tooth. She covered her mouth in shock, seeing the bloods color.

"NO! It can't be! Red…red blood. It…you're human…you're…a man!"

"It…" he said coughing as he whipped the blood of his chin, "it's been a while… since I've tasted my own blood", he said with a sinister glow in his eyes.

Holding one of the blades with its left hand, he gripped the hilt by its near end, with the edge facing outwards. Taking a strange stance - left shoulder backed farther than the right one, standing with its feet spread wider than shoulder width apart, right foot leading and back held straight - he prepared for the next strike.

Clare gripped tightly the hilt of her sword with both hands, preparing for the coming attack.

"If you attack, I won't hold back!" she threatened. No answer.

They stared into each other's eyes for a tense minute.

A drop of sweat formed on the woman's temple and started to slowly run down her cheek. Reaching the tip of the chin it dangled for a split second before it fell.

The man crouched and launched forwards. Near Clare, its left shoulder snapped forwards.

The drop splattered on the ground.

Her eyes widened as the blade pierced her gut. With a sadistic smirk, the warrior took out the sword as blood sprayed from the wound. Covering her wound with the left hand, Clare's movements were followed by a thin trail of blood as she avoided slash after slash. _Need…_ she thought out loud as blood invaded her mouth, _more…power._

One swing followed a burst of light before he jumped back. A long scar appeared on his cheek. _This isn't a human, it's a devil in disguise!_ She mentally exclaimed as her eyes witnessed the closing of his wound – slowly, from one end to another, like a zipper.

With his sinister chuckle, he took the same stance as before. He pounced. This time, she jumped. Pain took over the lower part of her body as she hit the ground.

"Come now, this would be a pathetic ending for my first duel in a … long time. Without your legs, you're **nothing**. Reattach your limbs…" he said flatly, throwing one of her legs in her lap."… And come at me. The night is still young."

With every step he took, rage took over her. Her body distorted, muscles grew, veins appeared on her face as blood and drool covered her lower lip. _I'll kill you. I'll kill you! _"I'LL KILL YOU!"

A strange calmness caressed the forest in the few seconds between the meetings of swords. Sparks flew as their blades collided for three times, every time they passed each other with lightning speed.

Everything soon blended together – trees, moon and sky, shadows and sounds, her screams for "MORE POWER, MORE SPEED!" his taunts for "MORE POWER, MORE SPEED!" – as their battle turned into a whirlwind of death. Their features seemed even more apocalyptic – her demonic face and fangs, his psychotic grin and widened eyes, dreads whipping his face every time he turned – in the continuous cascade of sparks. The two short blades soon began to glow in an incandescent red, unable to keep up with the insane speed of their masters' movements.

The two let out horrific howls before their weapons met once more. In an explosion of sparks, the man's pair of curved swords broke into hundreds of fiery fragments.

Barely breathing, with their bodies covered by cuts and bruises, they stared into one another's eyes.

Taking off the large chain around his neck, he prepared for the final attack. Clare gripped tightly the hilt of her claymore.

"This…"

"…is…"

"…the end!" both said before launching once more. Spinning the chain, he hit her hands with it, breaking her knuckles. The sword hit the ground as she was lifted up in a blink of an eye. With the chain around her neck Clare began to hear bones beginning to crack. Her body moved frantically as Clare struggled like a fish out of water to escape the suffocating grip.

Suddenly released from the deadly clutch, she grabbed her weapon as soon as her feet hit the ground. The man fell to his knees before lying on one side. His cheeks were red and his eyes watery, legs held tightly together and hands between them.

"Bitch!"he cried out in pain as a shaky arm lifted the blade above his head. Before the final blow could fall, Clare's eyes rolled and she fell to the ground.

* * *

Cracking. The darkness around in which she stood was cracking…crying. Like old wooden floors squeaking under furtive footsteps in the night. Just like in **that night** she left without a word. When she left **him.**

"Raki!"

She reached out for that someone, grasping, groping … hoping a hand would meet hers along the way. For a split second she even saw his face…felt his fingers caressing her pale cheek as her head laid in his lap like old times.

"Whatever this is, we'll face it together. You know I would do anything for you, don't you?"

Her shaky, watery eyes turned red as tears flowed from them under his overwhelming gaze.

"Don't you?"

The words faded away, like a whisper carried off by the wind.

The sinister cadence of a squeak and two hits followed by a long silence took over as the darkness fell back onto her. She recalled the window shutters blown by wind...the wind that cried out the night she left.

As the sounds grow louder and louder, so did her longing. She wanted to cry, to scream, but the suffocating sides of blank bleak black constrained her.

Crackling. The sound of fire grew more and more like a raging inferno that was about to collapsed onto her.

She stirred under the pelts that covered her, frowning from time to time as her lips moved softly, speaking unheard words. A pair of brown eyes watched her, with a slight worry in them.

"Ohh…my head hurts..." she finally uttered.

"So, you're still among us … _little brother_."

"What the hell happened?" she wondered as she touched her forehead.

"You've fainted. Blood loss and coming very close to your limit will do that to you", it was answered by a strange – yet familiar – deep voice.

With her vision still blurry, she gingerly traced a hand over her torso, surprised to find the wounds bandaged.

"Your wounds will heal in time. Your _precious_ nose already has. Hopefully, my balls will too."

"Nose...nose", she murmured before her eyes snapped open and she jerked up. "YOU!"

"Shut up. Sit down." A large palm pushed her face back, forcing the exhausted blonde to lay back.

"What the hell do you want?!" she barked, her eyes glowing with anger.

"Your hand in marriage."

**Notes**

** Iron Maiden - Fear of the dark -** modified lyrics so they'd fit in the Claymore universe.


	3. Chapter 3

First of all, allow me to thank SimplyChristine, megabouncer, Lowlander and everybody else who added my story to their story alert, favorite story etc. If I forgot anybody, accept my apologies, because I didn't do it on purpose.

Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, but time wasn't on my side – I can't neglect neither school nor work, since they kinda go hand in hand (need to work to pay for school and need to learn to be able to work in my field). But don't despair! I don't give up easily, so updates will keep on coming (just not as often as I would like).

I've started writing this story after watching the anime, so don't take it up against me if there are some things that have nothing to do what so ever with the manga.

Anyway, hope you'll enjoy the 3rd chapter.

**Hunter's Moon – scene 3**

_He's still following me. I've gotten so used to his presence these past few days. He - he's always there. Nothing seems to break his spirit. I've tried shaking him off, running, hiding, but he's always one step ahead of me. His look – the look he gave me when I've pressed my blade against his neck, trying to scare him – it…it still troubles me. That blank look made me feel so insignificant, so weak and so…pathetic. For now, I'm just going to ignore him._

A puzzled look braced Clare graceful features as she slowed down her pace, deepened in thoughts**:** _Do I hate him? I…I don't even know that_. _Sometimes it feels like I do…maybe because of those that I've lost while in my watch or maybe because his strength and determinations remind me of someone_. Stopping for a moment, she tightly shut her eyes.

Her lower lip trembled for a split second, like it barely shielded a painful groan before her mouth curved into a bitter smile. _A distant memory … a ghost that's been eluding me, haunting my every waking moment like the nightmares that torment my nights. Last night…last night when I awoke frightened and shaky and I felt him nearby. I...It, it reassured me, it made me feel __**safe**__. This false sense of security…how troublesome!_ She thought grinning ironically, continuing her aimless journey.

_He's there. He's always there … watching me, veiled by each shadow. Are you a guardian angel or a vengeful specter? And more importantly, will you do what I couldn't? Will you be here __**tomorrow**__?_

Something hit her. Something small and soft, tearing her from her trail of thoughts. Looking down, her eyes met the serene face of a little girl. No more than five, she wore a dusty blue dress and a white – now grey – pinafore. Her left hand, pointed at Clare, held a piece of paper.

"Hmm?! What's this?"

"Someone told me to give this to you."

"Someone? Who?"

"She said not to tell or I won't get my treat…" the girl said as she ran off, giggling, leaving a very surprised claymore behind.

Opening the letter, she frowned as she read the text: _come to the old shed at the end of town alone, at dusk. Remember, we know where she lives__. _

The old wooden door screeched, crying out as Clare forced it open. She stood in the doorstep, caught between the suns dying rays and the crepuscular blackness inside. The dark blue torn up cloak slowly blowing in the wind, the silvery uniform concealed by it, the inhuman beauty of her pale skin and absent, emotionless expression of silver orbs – everything about her emanated a strange glow, a gloomy aura. Each aspect of her being was surreal and as she stepped inside, she took one last look behind, as if she was leaving the world for another realm.

Standing still as a statue in the middle of the storehouse, dust slowly began cascading all around her, settling back down. Her blank stare was fixed upon a certain point**:** a water droplet that started to roll down a spider's thread the moment she stopped. As it rolled down its web, the many colors caught within its glazed reflection mesmerized her.

_Hmm. How fragile is the thread of one's life … and filled with so many joys and sorrows. The many colors of a tear drop_, she thought as the water came to a halt at the threads end and started to dingle_. It's this where I stand?_

Hearing a distinct, familiar laughter behind her, she opened her cloak and quickly sidestepped right, unsheathing her sword.

"What the ?!" came a surprised cry as something got tangled in the cloth before hitting the floor.

The sound was followed by the clashing of blades.

"Nice to see you again, Helen…Deneve," she said with a contemptuous smile.

* * *

"Clare, you sure have the best ideas sometimes!" Helen purred**,** overjoyed as she submerged herself in the warm water of a hot spring. She stood on the brim, leaning on her elbows, lifting gently one of her smooth legs, tilting her head side to side while humming a tune.

"And you have the stupidest ideas," Deneve commented as she got in next to her friend. "Sending a little girl with such a note."

"Hey, we had to be sure she was still up for the task, right?" Helen protested. "Besides, she got her candy, didn't she?! So no harm done!"

"Remind me: why are we doing this again?"

"Because helping a village to which The Organization has turned its back to is the right thing to do. Besides, we need some sponsorship," she stated matter of factly. "We can ask them for clothes, food..."

"Since when did you have such heroic thoughts? As much as I share your enthusiasm, do remember that our priority is to remain hidden from the ever watchful eye of the organization. So, a stunt like this will be a dangerous endeavor…"

"Oh, come on!" the tomboy objected, lifting her arms above her head while rolling her eyes. "Don't you wanna do something different for a change…"

As the two continued their disagreement, Clare was staring absent mindedly at the night sky. She seemed absorbed by her thoughts as her glance followed every cloud that rode across the dark-blue coverlet.

Something drew her attention – a frail, red trail that seemed to come from her right hand.

An obsessive sound started to ring in her ears, like water drops hitting the crystal clear surface, louder and louder, taking over everything around her.

A small cruor on her index finger had begun to melt in the hot water. _That's strange. Where did this come from?_ Clare puzzled as she whipped the coagulated drop off. As the crimson liquid slithered across the water like a serpent, her companion's voices grew deeper and deeper, lower and lower, until words could no longer reach the young woman. A strange wind started to blow from behind – calm, yet extremely cold, like a sinister omen for the darkness that followed it, encasing the entire scenery. And then the noise rang once again in her ears, so close and so loud it made her crouch in pain.

Sticky. Her hands felt sticky.

Nervously biting her upper lip, she looked at her palms. Her eyes widened in shock as she found them covered with blood. Fearfully rubbing her hands together, trying to clean them, her frustration soon turned into despair as the crimson substance kept flowing uncontrollably, replacing surely, rapidly all the water around her. Breathing heavier and heavier, with tears in her eyes and gritting teeth, she kept crying out: "It won't come off! It won't come off! IT WON'T COME OFF!"

"Clare!" somebody seemed to call out to her. But she couldn't answer. "Clare!" the voice found its way once again over her cries of dismay. Slapped on the back, she turned around only to find a very angry Helen looking down on her.

"God damn it, Clare! A least look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"Sorry," the shorter blonde murmured an apology as she turned her attention back to her right palm. _An illusion...a nightmare. I was all in…__**my head**__?!_ "Forgive me Helen, my mind was elsewhere."

"Heavy night last night, ha?"

"Yes," she answered as she nervously massaged her forehead. Then it hit her. "No, that's not what …"

"Come now, let us in on it, Clare!" the overenthusiastic claymore jabbered, clapping her hands. "Is he hot? Is he a good kisser?" Her mouth turned into a feral grin before asking: "How good is he in bed?"

Suddenly, she raised her head to inspect the surrounding bushes. "Don't tell me he's that scrawny kid that used to hang around you all the time," she whispered. "O booger ball! Come out, come out, where ever you are, you little perv!" she teased, in high sing-song voice.

"Don't call him that! And no, he's not Raki," Clare replied bitterly. "I wish he was, but he's not. He's just following me."

"Well, we can totally kick his ass for you, if you want us to."

"No, we can't. It would be unethical," Deneve cut in.

"You're no fun!" the mischievous warrior protested under her breath, pouting, crossing her arms over her chest, slumping back in the water.

"Besides, he's a human and we can't harm humans, even though we're renegades. We're still far stronger …"

"He fought me."

"…than him. Excuse me?" Deneve couldn't believe her ears.

"You found me because you followed the signature of my yoki, right? A couple of days ago you felt my presence from afar due to the release of an enormous quantity of power…"

"Yes, but you don't mean…"

"That's right: I was fighting **him**."

Although Deneve managed to camouflage her astonishment beneath an emotionless mask, Helen lacked the capacity.

"You want to know the real sad part?" Clare continued blankly. "I've lost it. I've nearly awakened. I let my anger get the better of me. I was so fixed on killing, I've nearly lost everything. And not just killing him – the sheer idea of ripping him to shreds and letting his blood rain down on me made my heart rejoice. Makes me sick just thinking about it."

Intensely watching her right palm, as if she was trying to burn a hole through it, she continued: "The narrow margin between life and death, humanity and madness – sensation that has became all too familiar lately**.** This accursed body saved me. Blood loss and exhaustion – it...my body caved in and saved me. And he…he tended my wounds. I wanted to kill him and yet he helped me. And now he wants me to marry him for gods know what reason."

"Oh, cheer up, gloomy!" Helen rested an arm on her friends shoulder before continuing: "I must admit Clare, I'm a little envious. I mean, what do you have and I don't?!" she said as she gave herself a quick look over. _It's the ass, isn't it? Tell me it's not the ass! _"First the kid and know this guy? I used to think I was the group's cute one."

"Well, you can have him."

"I don't know...I think Raki's more my style. Ouch!" The remark earned the number 22 a slap on the back of her head as Deneve passed by her, giving her a dirty look.

"Don't worry Clare," she said while placing a hand on her friends shoulder. "Where ever he is, I'm sure he's thinking of you." Noticing Helen was getting out of the water, rubbing the still stinging part of her neck, she decided to risk it and ask: "And where might you be going?"

"To get some answers, off course."

"If you plan on making a good first impression, you're on the right track."

Helen stopped dead in her tracks, suddenly realizing her nakedness. _Oups!_

* * *

Helen strode along the cliff side, gracefully hoping from boulder to boulder. Her eyes narrowed in anticipation the closer she got to her destination – a certain small flickering spot far away. It came and went, disappearing out of sight – her path turning into slalom between the dense pines – only to pop up back, nearer and brighter than before. And each time it did, she seemed to slow down her pace, little by little. The dying courage and enthusiasm she held paved the way for insecurity, doubt and uneasiness.

_He must be one conceited fool, giving away his position like that. We've spotted the column of smoke well before we started bathing. Heck, even a blind man could! Or is it that he doesn't care? _Helen wandered, her nervous watch still fixed upon her target.

Suddenly, she came to a halt. An irritated look took over her face for a short moment before turning to astound. _Am I…__**afraid**__?!_she pondered as her right hand instinctively covering her speechless mouth._ Of what? He's a … human. What the heck is wrong with me?! _She shook her head angry in an attempt to strengthen herself, before lifting a foot. Her step stopped in mid air.

_Why am I hesitating?_

Wrapping her arms tight around herself in a defensive manner, she continued her confession: _It's this bad felling. S-something in the back of my mind is begging me not to step any further. Like…like…_"Damn it, I'm not a coward!"_ she shouted before storming away._

_Damn you bastard and damn that Clare too! What the hell's her problem, anyway?! First of all, she's always been the absent minded, dark, revenge driven little maniac of the group. Then we found her soft, sweet side…namely Raki. She was so happy when they were finally reunited, in her own secluded way. Next, she suddenly disappears and now that we found her, she's acting even more peculiar than before._

"_I'm not coming back. I have nothing to come back to." _– Clare's words rang in her head as she pushed on.

"Damn you, Clare."

Hermind's rampaging maelstrom came to an abrupt stop when Helen realized that just a couple of feet stood between her and a large silhouette. Hearing what sounded like soughing murmur, she tiptoed closer, hiding behind a tree. Holding her breath, she poked out her head.

The man stood cross-legged, whispering nearly inaudible words as he gazed intensely at a small vial he held high in his hand.

"Will you ... walk me ... to the edge again? Shaking, lonely, and I am drinking again ...," his deep voice quivering bitterly before taking a swig from a large bottle. "Woke up, tonight and no one's here with me. I'm giving in to you. Take me, under! I'm giving in to you ... I'm dying tonight!" Each word spoken louder, angrier then the last. "I'm giving in to you...WATCH ME CRUMBLE!"

Helen froze as he suddenly turned, his eyes piercing her own. She could fell her temples beginning to pound under the pressure of the awkward silence that seem endless. She opened her mouth to speak, but it felt so dry, refusing to follow her command. Her lips felt bulky and began to sting, like they've slowly started to crack under her agitated breath. Then, he shifted back.

"Come, sit."

She found her feet moving without her will, blindly obeying the order. He quickly poured the contents of a large bottle in a small clay bowl before offering it to the woman with a brisk move.

"Here. Drink."

"No no…I'm O.K," she answered.

"A little liquor to wash away the troubles of past days," he cheerfully spoke as he held out the bowl to his silver-eyed companion. The inhuman whiteness hid behind pulpy, dark-red lips – the lower one, slightly larger than the upper, split in the left corner – caused his guest to raise a suspicious eyebrow. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned." By her look, he had guessed right and her circumspection only made him grin even wider.

Gingerly, she took the bowl from him with a frail smile, trying to mask her false courtesy, before bringing it to her lips. A rancid smell of cereals invaded her nostrils before her mouth started to burn.

"How can you drink this stuff?!" she cried with watery eyes while she placed the bowl down in the space between her feet.

"I like it when my body feels numb," came the absent-minded reply, his eyes fixed upon the object in his palm – the look in them of a strange adoration.

They stood silent in the fire-coaxed thicket, a mild blaze fencing off the pair – the only solid proof of the pairs existence in that still wilderness – burning slowly, whispering as it's dancing flames ate away pieces of wood, raising a shroud of embers with each crack. A woman deep in thought and a man praying to his pagan gods, taking long sips from his bottle – a strange, yet peaceful moon lit corner of a twisted world.

"Isn't it a shame that so many people have to suffer for such a small thing?"

As the words ripped the suffocating silence, Helen's eyes darted from the fire to the cold, distant looking face of her host.

A recessed forehead, framed by two long, thick dread locks on each side, ended with preeminent, bushy brows. Beneath them lurched two brown orbs of a wild glare, which could freeze the blood of any man. A short pitch-black beard ran across large cheekbones, hiding some of the many scars of his long face.

Leaning forward, her eyes turning into nearly indistinct able slits, the blonde warrior stared deep into his burning orbs, searching for something – a trace of the beast she was prepared to face and not this diaphanous, cold, indifferent … humane glare. Her aggravation grew even more as time progressed.

"Were you expecting a monster?"

"Y-yes," the woman feebly spoke, too perplexed by his brown eyes to notice the mockery of his tone.

"Not tonight," he replied spiritless, taking another long drink, still marveling over the phial.

The ease and poignancy with which he spoke – the lack of sarcasm she expected – made the blonde flinch in her spot. _Well, it's now or never, _she thought swallowing a lump.

"So, what's your business with Clare?"

"A great honor has been bestowed upon your friend – she's to become the heir of the North's throne."

_Is he for real!? There are no nobles around here…don't even know if there ever were any. And the north? Alfonse is an icy wasteland so…so asking about his origins would be a waste of breath since it's obvious this __**ogre **__isn't a native._

"Why her?"

"When the witch spoke of a distant land of beautiful, strong women, I was sent into wooing…if you can call it that. King Litovoi desires the strongest of these warriors for his son, Seneslau. She will rule over the four tribes of the north and all their people. Your _Clare _was the first one to defeat me since coming here…therefore, she is worthy."

"So, you aren't going to marry her?" asked softly a little disappointed warrior woman.

"I never said I was asking her hand for my benefit."

"Well, sorry to break it to you **pal**, but Clare won rather out of sheer luck then skill…"

"Luck will often favor one, if the courage holds."

_Why didn't your king come here himself? No, that's a stupid question with an obvious answer. Keeping the throne is top priority…all nobles are the subject of conspiracies, so a short leave of absence would lead to an uprising and instability. Either that or he's a major weenie._ She blinked surprised as a soft sigh brought her back from her deep thinking.

Her companion was still watching the dark content, prisoner to his own thoughts, a wry smile on his lips and distant glare. In the orange twilight, a strange, playful twinkle ran across his eyes, granting him the bizarre dignity and nobility of any untamed beauty. The dark, perverted affection in his smile sent a chill down her every bone.

"What the hell is that?!" she found herself thinking out loud.

"Essence of evil!" the man barked as he suddenly jerked himself up and around, standing before her with a savage grin and enlarged, deranged eyes, pulling himself so close that she could feel the static warmth coming from his exposed arm. In the shadow of his solid frame she felt small, helpless and insignificant.

The ominous, evil, almost seductive way in which he spoke "Want a sip?" made Helen grip the hilt of her sword.

"No, I'll pass," she barely murmured.

With a devilish snicker, the man took back his original place while inserting the vial in his left vambrace through a small opening. The ease in which everything returned to normal further confused Helen.

"I don't think you realize that our kind can't bear children. Do you even know what she is?"

"Of course I do. She's a claymore…a half-breed…an unholy abomination…" Each word brought forth wave by wave the fury that boiled within Nr. 22, her right fist tightening around a stone she held. "Like you." The sound of something breaking echoed in the night, scaring off some sparrows from their slumber. With a sinister, contemptuous smirk, the male continued to watch the dancing, fiery spectacle before him as he slurped his drink, unimpressed by the claymores blazing, golden eyes.

"Tell me your name," the hybrid asked after regaining a cool head. The demanding, almost ordering tone of her request surprised even her.

"My name? I have many." He spoke in a rather rhetorical, day dreaming manner. "But what is a name? We are so much more…complicated…then our names. I am a beast of a dying breed…neither living nor dead. I come and go as I please. I fear the dark, yet shadow comforts me and is my confident. I am a shell of former glory. Therefore, I am a ghost. Call me…Ghost."

"Ghost, eh? Well…Ghost, what are you **exactly**?"

Tiring of waiting for an answer, Helen coughed in a feeble attempt to get his attention.

"Leave me," came a quick, almost violent reply.

"Excuse me?!"

"I said leave me."

"Have I said something wro…?" the claymore asked, brushing off the dirt from her uniform, before she was cut off: "No, you didn't. Drinking is over, therefore this conversation is…over."

Walking away completely blurred, she stopped and gave him one last look over her shoulder. She found him staring into the fire, smiling his mysterious smile, confined in his own dreams, not sparing her one look.

"We're leaving tomorrow. If life has any value for you, don't follow us."

When the clamping of steel sabatons no longer echoed in the chill air of the night, Ghost slowly tilted his head backwards, letting the moons silvery rays trace all over his face and neck all the way down to his chest. Opening his eyes to stare back at his celestial mistress, he softly spoke:

"I am a man caught between two worlds. _I am the man who walks alone and when I'm walking a dark road…_"

The night chorused to Helen in quiet afterthought.

* * *

**Author notes: - **Adema – Giving in

Everybody, a big round of applause for the man of the hour - my beta and good friend – Shelter!

If I can make a request as a writer – please be as critical as possible in your reviews since English is not my native language and I'm always looking for ways of improving it, as well as my writing style. So be on the lookout for punctuation, grammar and spelling.

If you have any questions about the story, feel free to ask and I'll answer as soon as possible.


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